


With a Little Help

by SilverBlue



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pre-Localised Names, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7563778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBlue/pseuds/SilverBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oboro senses something wrong with Saizou and tries to help, and it all goes downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set between supports A and S.

Saizou stood, amongst high stacks of brightly coloured materials, clothes, trinkets and accessories, with Oboro flitting about him picking and matching patterns and colours. Today he was inside a kimono store occasionally lent out to Oboro to outfit her friends and nobles in the latest fashion, wrapped in material that scratched his skin, smelt too fresh and was visually too ornate. He had been putting off the fitting for weeks but with the royal ceremony closing in, he was unable to prolong it any further.  
  
It was not, however, as daunting as he expected, not when his mind was detached from the current setting and preoccupied instead with replaying a memory that was set inside a kitchen with a different woman bustling about.  
  
There was still a bitter taste left in his mouth from his most recent encounter with Charlotte. When he was insulted by someone, he laughed at their pettiness and didn’t think to waste his time again. He certainly didn’t care how he was perceived. Yet her words niggled at him, worse than the clothes he was wearing. Had she truly meant what she said, that she wanted him to leave her be? Rather than laying the memory to rest, he found himself picking at it, scrutinising it word by word, motion by motion.  
  
“Out with it.”  
  
Saizou refocused his attention onto Oboro who stood before him, arms on her hips. She was a good head shorter, but with him on a platform she was even more so. Less muscular, naturally, but no less formidable, and size did nothing to deter her from directing him about in matters related to clothes – and possibly beyond if her expectant glare was anything to go by.  
  
She was shrewd, picking the most opportune time to prod him for answers.  
  
“You’re not normally obedient when you try on clothes, especially when they’re this fancy.”  
  
“… You think so?” She should be pleased that he was being so accommodating to her layering and measuring and pinning.  
  
“I _know_ so. You scamper off when you catch sight of me, and if I manage to get you to stand still for five minutes, I get an earful of you moaning like an old man about how everything is too bright or colourful or shimmery or flashy—”  
  
“Saizou the fifth does not run from tribulations or complain about misfortunes, and has never been compared to _an old man_. Said to face obstacles with silent determination, stamina unmatched even by younger gen—”  
  
“Yes, yes,” she gestured to brush away his speech. “So?”  
  
Damn the seamstress, he wasn’t going to deter her easily when her interest was hooked.  
  
“It’s a woman.” The sound of betrayal came from behind, spoken by the only one who had ever experienced his romantic advances first hand … and were aware of all his tells.  
  
“A woman!” Oboro squealed in glee. Kagerou stepped round to reveal herself, standing beside Oboro with a ghost of a smirk.  
  
He glared at Kagerou. _Don’t._  
  
Her eyebrow twitched. _Why not._  
  
“Well, who is she?!” Oboro asked, eyes sparkling and so absorbed that she didn’t realise she was gripping the clothes.  
  
“… They’ll crease,” Saizou commented with a nod, trying to distract her.  
  
“Don’t try and change the subject,” she said, though she loosened her grip. He glanced at his only visible escape route, calculating how quickly he could be out of the door.  
  
“Take one step, and I will not fail to mention your lack of commitment towards preparing for your invitation during tonight’s report.” Kagerou played dirty; she knew he would never mar his reputation and therefore that of his lord. Oboro grinned, delighted with her accomplice.  
  
Saizou cleared his throat then tugged at the neck of his jacket. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, just as Oboro slapped his hand away.  
  
“It does,” the traitor spoke again. “As your partner I must know how this may affect our way of work.”  
  
“Yes!” Oboro agreed. “Your secret may potentially harm Lord Ryouma!”  
  
“Considering the situation is hypothetical, there’s no use preparing for what may not be.”  
  
“You incessantly demand we gather all information, no matter how useless.”  
  
“For work! This is an invasion of privacy.”  
  
“So speaks the one whose line of work disregards any meaning of the word.”  
  
“Let me be blunt: the woman of my interest has nothing to do with you!”  
  
“What woman?”  
  
Kamui stood by the doorway, smiling with curiosity. Why was everyone needing their clothes seen to at exactly the same time?  
  
“Saizou,” she said walking over, involving herself in the conversation. “Do you have a _love interest_?”  
  
The single ‘no’ was stamped out by the double ‘yes’, one barely audible but its lack of volume made up for by the high-pitched enthusiasm of the other.   
  
The princess giggled softly then waved her hand at him. “It’s painted all over your face.”  
  
Gods damn it – he forgot he wasn’t wearing his mask.  
  
“But who?” She directed the question at the two women. Kagerou replied with a shake of her head. A dark look – one reserved specifically for unknown Nohrians – clouded Oboro’s face.   
  
“He won’t say.”  
  
Oboro picked out an obi and wrapped it low around his waist, crossing the ends and pulling them tightly. She secured the strip with a knot that made the material dig into his gut.  
  
“... Ngh! Careful, woman!”  
  
“I’m sorry, was that too tight?” Oboro smiled through the grimace – a disturbing look in itself – tone dripping in sweetness. He felt a wave of nausea.  
  
“She’s from Nohr.”  
  
The monotonous tone was so quiet it would have been missed, if not spoken deliberately in the pocket of silence amidst the commotion. They all turned to the corner of the room where Belka stood, watching.   
  
“How long have you been there?” Oboro asked, surprise wiping away her dark look. How was it he deserved that look and not the actual Nohrian herself?  
  
“We entered the shop a while ago.”  
  
“… We?”  
  
There was a harsh whisper of ‘Belka!’ then Luna shot up from behind a large pile, her cheeks matching the colour of her hair. “I-I was looking through the clothes!”  
  
“I would have noticed your presence,” Saizou narrowed his eye at the assassin.  
  
“You were distracted,” Belka replied without missing a beat. “Love makes you weak.”  
  
His other eye snapped open. “I am not _weak_ —”  
  
“No one’s weak,” Kamui physically came between the two, trying to laugh it off. “What did you mean by ‘she’s from Nohr’?” She steered the conversation back to a topic that would have (almost) everyone agreeing.  
  
“W-well, if you _insist_ on knowing,” Luna started, pretending to be busy sifting through the clothes. “He’s always hovering around areas we often occupy. Yesterday he was pacing about the dusk armoury. The day before, he was skulking around our quarters.”  
  
“Saizou,” Kagerou interjected, “you bring shame to your predecessors and to shinobi everywhere.”  
  
“I-I never make myself obvious in plain sight!”  
  
Belka and Luna gave each other a side-glance.  
  
He hadn’t done so … had he? No, he was the man in possession of the great Saizou name; he wouldn’t reveal himself during such an important affair, one that relied on his utmost discretion. The remaining scraps of his dignity depended upon it.  
  
Oboro prodded him in the chest.  
  
“What were you doing around their armoury? Their quarters?”  
  
“I would like to know that too.”  
  
“Maybe he was just passing by?”  
  
“He was wandering about for at least ten minutes, I doubt you can call that ‘passing by’.”  
  
“… Well?”  
  
Where was his training to counter one, two – _five_ – women’s questioning?  
  
The door slammed open – a welcome intrusion – and Saizou, along with everyone else, glanced towards the newcomers.  
  
“Dear Oboro, deadly with the spear and tenfold more when your graceful face is cast by shadows feared even by demons themselves! I wish to be adorned in the most delicate of Hoshidan blossoms, carefully picked by your nimble hands and keen eye for attire. Odin Dark will effloresce – fierce, yet elegant – as does the night when illuminated by flowers bursting forth, their petals aflame—!”  
  
Odin stumbled forward, grand entrance ruined by the man shoving him inside. “He wants to try on our style of clothes and look pretty,” Odin’s translator of the day, Hinata, said over the sorcerer’s shoulder with a slightly exasperated smile. He cast his eyes over to Saizou, then to the sight of women surrounding Saizou. “... Is your attraction hereditary or can it be taught?”  
  
“Saizou’s in love,” Oboro filled her partner in to correct his misunderstanding.  
  
“You’re joking—”  
  
“I am _not_ in love—”  
  
“Oh, there is more than dress which blossoms in this—”  
  
“Cut it out, Odin!”  
  
Luna’s yell was sharp enough to cut off everyone’s talking.  
  
Odin coughed. “Er, I mean, with who?” He counted some of the people in the room, then continued his count on his fingers. “—Pieri, Elfie” – even he seemed to know the secret identity was from Nohr – “Lady Elise, Lady Camilla—”  
  
“Wait – no, it can’t—” Hinata looked at Saizou with awe. “Lady Camilla? Wasn’t it you who said you’d consider her just for her – what was it – ‘bounteous’—”  
  
“ENOUGH!” Saizou roared, pulse rate increasing, breath shallowing, panic rising. “I-I’m asking you, just – just stop …”  
  
Forget questioning, where was his training to counter _stupidity_. Never again would he be persuaded to share his opinion if it was to be used against him like this. He risked a glance at the women whose smiles had been pulled taught. Suddenly his clothes felt extremely comfortable compared to their suffocating stares.  
  
Hinata looked surprised at the outcry, then laughed in the face of tension. Saizou gaped; the man was fearless or utterly mad to ignore the seething aura. “Sorry, sorry, I should’ve known you were joking. But then … who?”  
  
Saizou felt lightheaded under the layers of clothing, plus additional coats for each embarrassment he had to endure, all hot pressed by the expectant gazes of the people around him. He could see only one path to freedom. Oboro would most likely send him to hell for the destruction to her clothes, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make if he could make this situation disappear.  
  
“Saizou,” Kagerou said in warning mixed with concern, taking a step forward, the only one to know what he was planning.  
  
Her uncovered eye glinted. _Don’t_.  
  
Saizou’s eyebrow twitched in mockery. _Why not_.  
  
The door swung open. “Oboro, I apologise for my … delay …”  
  
Saizou didn’t practice religion besides the occasional prayer or gratitude, but in that moment he thanked the gods for their divine intervention in the form of Lord Ryouma and promised profuse libations.  
  
“What’s going on?” Ryouma asked, approaching the small crowd. “Are you all here for a fitting?”  
  
“Brother!” Kamui pulled him in by the arm. “Your retainer is in love!”  
  
Ryouma’s eyes fell onto Saizou. “Is that so?”  
  
“Yes, but he won’t reveal who it is,” Oboro said, tone darkening. “Doesn’t it violate some sort of retainer code to keep information like this from you?”  
  
There was a split second where Saizou felt genuine fear in seeing mirth flash across his Lord’s eyes.  
  
“There are certain things one should not be forced to reveal, even to their Lord,” Ryouma said, which gained a few groans of disappointment, Odin’s being the loudest.   
  
The topic fizzled with the presence of the prince, and all attention on Saizou with it. His breathing gradually steadied and he no longer felt feverish.  
  
They had all been casually throwing the word ‘love’ around, but was his concern for Charlotte really love? Was what he felt worthy enough to be entitled with such a word? He imagined her face (often irritated) and her speech (generally surprised and angry) but no repulsion stirred. If anything, what he felt was a cross between amusement and fondness.  
  
“It’s good to see you smile,” he heard his Lord say in the quiet of the room, save for Oboro arguing softly with Hinata in the corner while they picked out clothes for Odin. “What Kamui said must be true.”  
  
His earlier embarrassment made a swift return.  
  
“I apologise for involving you in my affairs, Lord Ryouma. I assure you it won’t happen again.”  
  
“No need to apologise, Saizou. While my act is only small, I’m glad there are occasions where I can somewhat repay you for your dedication with deeds which genuinely assist you.” The humour behind his words did not go unnoticed.  
  
There stood Saizou the fifth, choking on discomfort, rescued by his Lord in the face of his most challenging adversary – humiliation.  
  
“I pray your confession is successful.”  
  
“… My Lord?” He had only managed to wrap his head around his emotions; a confession so soon was unthinkable.  
  
“A word of advice – if you have already realised your feelings towards another, don’t wait to make them known. Love shouldn’t be kept hidden … at least not from the object of your affection.”  
  
Oboro wandered over to start her discussion on patterns for the Lord, and Saizou sunk deep into his thoughts, pondering over those words.


	2. Chapter 2

Threadbare scarf. Weathered tunic. Abraded gear. Saizou breathed in the metallic scent of his mask and sighed. He was content.  
  
The position he had taken up was one of his more preferred surveying spots which offered a perfect bird’s eye view and tiles that wouldn’t slide under his weight. A faint blush dusted the blue above, and below small lights were being lit to dot the paths starting to bustle in preparation for evening sales.  
  
Saizou had spent the time after his fitting … mulling, he supposed. After being dismissed, he had kept his body distracted with training but his mind wasn’t so easily baited, hence he was at his current location, believing if he gave his thoughts the proper amount of attention they would offer up a solution.  
  
Two hours later and he had yet to be enlightened with a solution.  
  
The ninja growled and dropped into the empty alley with a soft thud. If he was unable to be productive while still, he may as well be moving. He turned into the main street and scoured the activity around him.  
  
“Saizou!”  
  
He turned, seeing Oboro heading towards him. With his inhibitions lowered it took several seconds for instinct to kick in.  
  
“No – wait! Stop! Why are you running away?!”  
  
The Saizou name filled the streets and heads turned to see the man worthy of the name rushing past, followed shortly by the woman calling to him.  
  
“Come back here!”  
  
Her voice sounded too close. Saizou pushed himself harder to distance himself from the persistent spear fighter; he refused to endure any more of the ordeal he had been induced to that day.  
  
“Haven’t you had enough for one day?!”  
  
“I need to give you this!”  
  
He glanced back to see Oboro waving, clutching something in her hand.  
  
It could be a soporific. It could be a confectionary. A concentrated dose and both were effective in knocking him unconscious.  
  
“Another excuse to trick me?! I’ll not be fooled!” he shouted over his shoulder.  
  
“For gods’ sake, Saizou, _you’re_ the fool! Someone stop him!”  
  
Something hard rammed into his right shoulder, sending him bounding off and he lost his footing, crashing backwards onto the floor. He looked up at his assailant, fuming at them, but also at himself for being allowed to be caught off guard.  
  
“Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”  
  
Zero towered over him with a smirk and (to Saizou’s frustration) appearing completely unruffled from the impact. His uncovered eye looked him up and down. “Continue smouldering like that and you might just kindle in me an interest in you … or is that your intent?”  
  
“You dare suggest—” Saizou scrambled up off the floor. It was regrettable the outlaw still towered over him when standing. “Be glad I wasn’t wearing my blades or else you would be in shreds,” Saizou spat.  
  
Zero looked to consider those words. “That sounds like an invitation to me.”  
  
Saizou’s face twitched.  
  
“Don’t you move!” Oboro said between breaths when she finally caught up with them, stopping Saizou from drawing his weapons. “Nice timing,” she added to Zero.  
  
Zero bowed his head. “I’m often told I come at exactly the right time.”  
  
“… Really now.” It was a relief to know Saizou wasn’t the only one on the receiving end of Oboro’s look.  
  
No, that was nothing to be proud of, being classed the same level as the outlaw.  
  
“Was that comment not to your liking?” Zero sighed turning to Saizou. “It’s so hard to satisfy her.”  
  
“You should try not talking,” Saizou deadpanned. Oboro continued to struggle with her expression.  
  
Zero also looked pained. “That too? What would help arouse your spirits?”  
  
“A fitting,” Saizou said quickly, thinking to get rid of both at once. “She can help match your partner.”  
  
“Ah, so Odin’s transformation was your doing? I certainly wouldn’t be against the idea.”  
  
Oboro’s face instantly lightened at the thought. “That would be a nice challenge, contrasting the two of you … and perhaps eventually even Lord Leon. Come by later and I’ll match your clothes with Odin’s – not another word till then!” She added when Zero opened his mouth. He grinned, gave another nod and walked away.  
  
Oboro turned to Saizou, face clouding. “Why do you always run when you see me?”  
  
“Because you running at me never bodes well!” The number of times he had to run merely to avoid being strangled as she tugged at his old scarf to replace it with something new (with colours, and some kind of sheen, sometimes with so many patterns Saizou wondered whether he should experiment to see if he could deter enemies by temporarily robbing them of their sight) – that in itself could be classified as training.  
  
“I told you your fitting was complete and your clothes needed only minor adjustments. I even said, pick it up in two days time!”  
  
“… I see.” A misunderstanding (on his part, which he wasn’t willing to admit) then. “What do you want?”  
  
Oboro grabbed his wrist and pressed something into his palm. “I don't know why I put myself through this,” she mumbled to herself.  
  
Saizou looked down.  
  
A rectangular pouch was nestled inside his palm, dark red and decorated with black and navy threads as thin as a spider’s, writing at the centre carefully sewn in a dull gold. The dark colours that matched his own weren’t something that would be displayed in a store.  
  
The little item felt too delicate in his scratched, hardened hand, the thread sure to catch on one of his calluses.  
  
“What is it.”  
  
“You can see what it is. A good-luck charm, specifically for success in love.” Oboro crossed her arms. “I feel bad for the way things escalated earlier. I overheard your talk with Lord Ryouma and – well, if you’re planning on making your feelings clear, then it wouldn't hurt to have a little luck on your side. Gods know you’ll need it.”  
  
Saizou didn’t believe in charms. Whether he lived (or died) was his own doing, all consequences resulting from his actions. He had attempted – once, in an act of desperation – to place his faith in the weapon used by the preceding Saizou, that it would perhaps contain a lingering spirit which would lend strength and protection when infiltrating the land of his father’s murderer, but no force or spirit helped avenge his father then, nor kept him from harm’s way.  
  
Saizou didn’t believe in charms; but if Oboro had taken the time to sew this for him with feelings of wanting him to succeed, then he would accept those feelings with gratitude.  
  
He slipped the item carefully between his clothes. “I appreciate it.”  
  
“I’m sure we’ll find out sooner or later if it worked. You can’t keep things like this without somebody finding out,” she grinned. No doubt Kagerou was on his tail. Possibly accompanied by Suzukaze, who was always unnecessarily worrying over his welfare. Belka wouldn't be interested but may be persuaded by Luna, and after the ‘accidental’ running into of Zero, Odin had probably relayed the tale as an epic poem yet to be finished.  
  
“W-we’ll see about that,” he faltered at the last thought.  
  
“Honestly though, if you want to avoid me so desperately you should just make yourself disappear,” Oboro huffed, then walked back the way she came.  
  
… Huh. So he should.  
  
*  
  
Saizou stalked the shadows as he continued his surveillance for suspicious behaviour. It was probably all in his mind, but he couldn’t help glance over his shoulder or eye dark crevices. This must have been how Kamui had felt when he had been the one following, recording his observations.  
  
_This and that are unrelated_ , he told himself to rid the small amount of guilt pooling inside. His actions were through his duty to protect. Everyone else’s were pure meddling out of self-interest.  
  
His eye snagged on a quiet area not far from the market stalls where Benoit and Charlotte were sitting. He slowed his pace, about to divert towards them but shook his head, resuming his path. Luna and Belka had been right; he was making himself obvious in his weakened state. He would content himself with a final glance, then—  
  
He came to a stop. Charlotte was rolling her eyes and twisting her face in disgust.  
  
Intriguing – he had only ever seen her act in pretence in front of men, yet there she was with Benoit, being her normal self. This counted as suspicious behaviour … and needed closer inspection.  
  
“Look at the way they flock to her,” he listened to Charlotte, concealing himself in the shadows behind a corner nearest to where they sat. “She’s not even carrying anything heavy and they’re all ‘let me help you!’ And see that? ‘Oh, I’m so weak I can’t even lift this tiny box,’” Charlotte imitated in her tone specially reserved for similar situations. “Get some muscles, woman!”  
  
Saizou – and Benoit – snorted softly.   
  
“Oh, she didn’t just – did she deliberately trip onto him? She’s practically manhandling him, look where her hands are!”  
  
Saizou peered round to spot the scene. Indeed the woman in question was clutching onto the man, but she – and the man – genuinely seemed flustered and apologetic. Her hands were modestly on his upper arms to regain balance before hurriedly releasing her grasp.  
  
“And now, yes, he’s helping her and off they go together, another man fallen into the trap of feminine wiles.”  
  
“Sounds familiar,” Benoit finally commented.  
  
Charlotte sighed. “But you just saw proof that’s what men like in a woman. I can’t help it if I have to act the same to get their attention.”  
  
“Not all men …”  
  
“I’m never going to get someone to like me so long as I’m like this—”  
  
“That reminds me …”  
  
“—Where’s the man of my dreams who will sweep me off my – what’s that?”  
  
“You talk a lot about finding a partner recently … so I made you this.”  
  
Saizou looked around again, this time to catch a glimpse of something pink pass between their hands.  
  
(Had he seen a reflection of himself, he would have noticed that his frown was engraved much deeper between his brows than usual.)  
  
“Aw, Benny, that’s sweet of you. This’ll help me find someone to marry!”  
  
“Marry? That’s just to find love … I’ll make another.”  
  
“The more charms the better, I’ll need all the luck I can get.”  
  
Saizou’s hand automatically hovered over where his own charm rested but he quickly dropped his arm.  
  
_… A coincidence …_  
  
Benoit pushed himself up off the seat.  
  
“Where’re you going?”  
  
“Training session … with Elfie.”  
  
“Ugh, abandoned for a date.”  
  
“It’s not a—”  
  
“I know, I know. Go on, leave me to despair on my own.”  
  
Benoit hesitated; it was clear he didn’t want to leave his close friend (?) to sulk on her own. Charlotte must have picked up on it because she pushed at his arm. “ _Go._ After all this time and you still can’t tell if I’m joking?”  
  
Benoit’s face loosened and he nodded, leaving Charlotte to sit by herself. Saizou noted her demeanour to be more relaxed when she wasn't centre of attention, leaning back casually but not without the aura of her strong character. It was a mixture of her confidence and carefree manner that made her look uniquely striking.  
  
Now would be an opportune time.  
  
“You and Benoit are close.”  
  
Charlotte straightened herself up, her whole body on guard until she saw who had suddenly appeared beside her. “Gah, stop doing that. What do you want? I don’t have any food here for you to steal.”  
  
He looked sidelong at her to trace her features for the first time that day. When his eye settled on hers, he noticed she was watching him just as intently, in thought.  
  
“What?” he finally asked.  
  
She gave his face a once over before replying. “You look more sullen than usual, if that’s even possible. Spying went sour?”  
  
He thought he wore a neutral expression but her intuition was unexpectedly accurate, especially considering his face was already half concealed. Perhaps the use of her own mask made her sensitive to others’ (or perhaps he wasn’t as good as he thought in wearing his own.)  
  
“In a way,” he replied, brushing the comment aside and reverted to the original topic. “How long have you known each other?”  
  
“Benny? It must be several years now. Since we started border duties.” She leaned back again, this time crossing her arms over her chest. He always wondered how she had the courage to fight with minimal protection – how was her gear to protect her when half her chest was exposed?  
  
One moment, and he registered his words and how his eye was lingering; he turned his focus to the streets, face heating slightly.  
  
“Why don’t you act like you usually do when you’re around him?” he continued his questioning, distracting himself with passersby.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“You don’t attempt to allure him with your cloyingly sweet act.”  
  
He glanced to see if his comment would cause her annoyance but her humour was still intact. To him, the sight of her now was alluring, not her distorted version of the word.  
  
“Oh, well, you know how he is,” she waved off. Saizou waited in silence until she eventually noticed his expectant stare. “He doesn’t judge. Men, women, they always measure you by the way you talk or dress or behave and cast you aside if you don’t conform to standards. I knew straight off he accepted people as they are, so didn’t feel the need to act.”  
  
_I accept you as you are_ , he wanted to say but held back the words. “Do you see yourself together with him? As an item?”  
  
“What?!” she laughed, appearing unfazed. “You’d think a ninja like you would know how to use tact when asking questions. You know that’s why women don’t approach you? They think you’re insensitive.”  
  
He didn’t care what women thought, he only cared what the woman before him had to say, and she didn’t seem to take offence at his bluntness. “Well?” he pressed.  
  
“You’re ridiculous,” she said with a smirk, making him bristle slightly; ‘ridiculous’ was not a word he would use to describe himself. “What makes you say that?”  
  
“You drop your guard. He accepts you for who you are. It’s a natural conclusion.”  
  
Charlotte pulled a face. “He’s a sweet soul and I trust him to have my back whatever the situation but I’ve never thought of him like that. I don’t think I could, we’re just good friends – and he’d say the same.”  
  
Saizou was relieved – but this relief was short lived. Her relationship with Benoit may be platonic, but how long would it take for someone else to start noticing her attractiveness? He often found Zero mingling when she was the centre of attention (of a group of men, Saizou came to realise), and it was only the other day he saw Silas and her having a serious discussion over a drink. These men were smart; he couldn’t believe they would be spending time while completely oblivious to her true personality.  
  
“—Not to mention, he’s started to have a thing for that Hoshidan with the crazy look on her face,” Charlotte said, drawing him out of his thoughts.  
  
Only one individual came to mind but Saizou couldn’t be sure they were talking about the same person. “Oboro?”  
  
“Oboro … that’s right. They’ve been swapping charms lately, it seems she’s taken with them … and maybe their maker too.” Charlotte looked at him knowingly.  
  
He wasn’t aware they had spent that much time together; Oboro certainly did a good job in concealing this information from everyone (him).  
  
_And she had the audacity to hound me on my love interest_.  
  
Charlotte stood, stretching her legs and then her arms. “Better go and do some training of my own. I hear we’ll be heading out in a couple of days. Oh—” she turned to face him directly. Surround him with enemies and he wouldn’t be shaken. Stand him face-to-face with the person of his interest and his pulse was erratic. “You weren’t in the mess hall at lunch so there’s a portion put aside for you in the kitchen. It’s a bit late now though, no guarantees as to if it’s still there.”  
  
He was surprised she noticed his absence. “It’s not like you to be concerned for my well-being. Was I missed?”  
  
“I-I didn’t say it was me, why should I care if you skip meals? And I definitely didn’t miss you scavenging about in the kitchen, snatching bites behind my back.” She was starting to redden, resuming her usual temper towards him.  
  
He stepped closer. “Oh, so you were on kitchen duty?”  
  
Her eyes widened before scowling, refusing to back away from him. “Just because I was on kitchen duty doesn’t mean I left it out for you!”  
  
“Then you must have seen who it was?”  
  
“I … don’t have time for this! I’m going to training. You should make yourself useful too, isn’t it time you reported to your Lord or something?”  
  
He was surprised a second time. She was right; with the way the sky was darkening he would need to leave now to arrive before his Lord on time. Even so, he watched her mingle into the crowds then rushed to scale the sidewall to the rooftop, finding it easier to keep his eye on her there until she disappeared completely out of sight.  
  
The small grin behind his mask was known only to himself.  
  
Maybe he was ready to let his feelings known. And maybe, those feelings were mutual.  
  
*  
  
_Charlotte._  
  
_Gah! You AGAIN? What do you want now?_  
  
_I want you to go out with me._  
  



End file.
